


Delighted and Distracted

by motivationalhedonism



Series: Delighted and Distracted 'Verse [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alexander Hamilton: Accidental Peeping Tom, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Thomas Jefferson, Fluff, Gilbert Lafayette: Too Involved in His Friends' Love Lives, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Pining, Sex Toys, Slow Burn, Thomas Jefferson: Secretly a Bottom, Top Alexander Hamilton, emotionally stunted idiots, google translate french
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:42:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28758276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motivationalhedonism/pseuds/motivationalhedonism
Summary: It all started when Alexander Hamilton hid in the closet to give his roommate-slash-archrival a scare. Things did not go as planned.Or: Told that his roommate would be home late, Thomas Jefferson decided to have some alone time. He wasn't as alone as he thought he was.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson, Dolley Madison/James Madison, Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette/Hercules Mulligan, Thomas Jefferson/James Madison (one-sided)
Series: Delighted and Distracted 'Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2108418
Comments: 29
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

Alexander Hamilton, from his place in his roommate's closet, watched in horror as said roommate, Thomas Jefferson, stripped off his pants and settled comfortably into his bed.

 _Please don't do what I think you're about to do, please don't do what I think you're about to do,_ he pleaded in his head. Whatever deity out there wasn't listening, however, and he could only stifle a defeated sob as Jefferson put his AirPods® in and pulled up what was very clearly a porn app. _Oh no. This is happening._

Now, if anyone were to ask Alexander Hamilton where This Whole Problem started, he would look back to what should've counted as a harmless, thoughtful deed and say "This is it, officer. This is where it all went wrong."

It was innocent enough: John, Lafayette, and Hercules, seeing how stressed Alexander was with the semester requirements, proposed a movie night to unwind.

They invited the Schuylers, of course. He and Eliza have started to mend their friendship after that whole Lewis mess. And, while Angelica took her time weighing whether or not she'd be willing to forgive Alexander for cheating on her precious little sister, shooting him cold glares when she thought he couldn't see her (or perhaps precisely _because_ she knew he could see her), she didn't hesitate to accept their invitation either. The three sisters even brought their share of snacks for the film viewing.

It had everything Alexander needed to unwind. It was perfect. There was greasy pizza, cheap beer, a textbook's worth of chips, his friends, and a full playlist of horror movies. What more could a scrappy, hungry college boy want?

But, of course, _of course_ the universe would completely refuse to give Alexander Hamilton anything perfect. And, that night, that imperfection came in the form of Thomas Jefferson.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he asked the man when he showed up to Laf's apartment with a bottle of expensive red wine. (Seriously, what is wrong with this guy? Who the fuck brings _wine_ to something like this? It's a movie night between college students, not a date night to seduce your middle-aged boss into giving you a promotion.) "Laf, what the fuck is Jefferson doing here?"

The Frenchman just rolled his eyes. "Je l'ai invité. Thoma' needs a break as well," he says, pushing past Alexander to reach his taller friend. "'e was, 'ow you say, working into soil just as much as you 'ave, mon ami."

"Has been workin' himself into the ground," Jefferson _that fucker_ corrected, handing Lafayette the wine.

"Peu importe," Lafayette waved the correction off, beaming as he read the bottle's label. "Merci pour ça!"

Alexander, decidedly pissed off at Laf for inviting _his damn archnemesis_ to a friends-only party, made mocking impressions of the Frenchman, kissing the air and pretending to coo over a nonexistent bottle of wine. Laf ignored his immaturity. At least John found it funny.

After setting up the projector and grabbing their own choices of chips, they all settled into their respective seats. As per horror movie night rules, nobody was to be seated alone. (Well, except for Peggy; but you can chuck an axe at that woman and she wouldn't even yelp. Alexander is convinced she feels no fear.)

John sat to his side, of course, at the very edge of the couch. Laf and Herc took the only sofa chair because they were a disgusting couple. Angelica seemed to have made it her mission to not let Alex sit next to her sister, and so Eliza sat at her side at the opposite end of the couch.

Angelica must have also decided that she didn't want to sit next to him, because she dragged Jefferson to the couch... and sat him next to her, between her and Alexander. Like a human barrier. He was cramped up so tight against Jefferson's body they might as well have worn their Get Along shirt. (Which they had for some reason. That reason being Laf.)

But, while he and Angelica were starting to warm up to each other again, he still didn't think he was forgiven enough that complaining would sit well with her. And so he huffed (making it exaggeratedly clear that he was huffing at Jefferson, not Angelica, _not Angelica at all_ ), but ultimately chose not to say anything. Besides, it looked like the taller man was making it his mission to ignore Alexander anyway, instead staring boredly at the selection of movies on the projector screen as Peggy scrolled through the options.

The youngest Schuyler eventually settled on a movie called _Rec_ which by her description was "a found footage zombie film." She sat down on the floor, closest to the screen, at which Alex briefly considered bullying Jefferson into sitting down next to her, far away from him.

Around the movie's quarter mark, though, it became very clear that he would've been declined had he even asked Jefferson to sit closer to the screen. _Jefferson,_ Alexander noted with glee, _is easily startled._

He would flinch and grasp at his unopened bag of chips at each jumpscare. At one point, he was hugging it so tight that Alexander feared it would give and just pop, showering them all in cheese puffs.

Alex was vaguely aware of the others' reactions: Eliza half-hidden behind Angelica, who in turn was trying to keep a brave face; Lafayette on Hercules' lap petting the bigger man as he tensed at each sound; John with one hand clutching a turtle pillow and the other at Alex's sleeve for comfort; and Peggy... not flinching one bit, but it was as expected.

But, for the obvious reason that he hates Jefferson and likes seeing him suffer, Alexander enjoyed his reactions best. The man had clearly tossed his pride out the window at some point of the movie, as he wasn't holding back his gasps and whimpers (yes, _whimpers_ ) anymore. It was like he was torn between saving himself from the horrifying imagery and wanting to know what happens next, and physically couldn't look away.

Alexander eventually found himself paying more attention to Jefferson than the movie, internally cackling each time the other tensed next to him. Actually, as the movie progressed, he noticed Jefferson hadn't un-tensed in a while, another realization he noted with complete glee. _Alex was so going to use this against him._

When they reached The Attic Scene, however:

The entire scene was set up for a jumpscare. That much was obvious with how the camera was moving. Everyone waited with bated breath as Pablo reached up with his night vision camera, trying to record whatever was up there. And then... it happened so fast.

There was a creature on screen, and then there was a loud pop that caused everyone—everyone, _even Peggy_ —to scream and bat away _small orange creatures that came out of fucking nowhere._

"What the fuck!?"

"Éloignez-les! Éloignez-les!"

"Angelica!"

"Everyone calm down!"

Wait.

Everyone turned to Jefferson, who was now clutching a deflated bag of chips, orange cheese puffs stuck to his hair and clothes. He snapped out of his shock and noticed everyone's exasperated stares. His skin flushed at the attention, redness somehow showing through dark skin.

"I... I'm going to sleep," he mumbled, standing up and brushing the orange monstrosities off his body.

There was about five minutes of the movie left.

From the corner of his eye, Alexander watched as Jefferson swept up his mess and prepared for bed. He couldn't quite listen in on the man's hushed conversation with Lafayette, but when Laf stood up, excused himself to accompany Jefferson to the guest room and never came back, he realized something that aroused something malicious in him.

Jefferson wasn't just easily startled. He was easily scared.

And he just asked Laf to hold his hand through the night (well, hyperbole) after watching a scary movie.

_Oh, Alexander was definitely going to use this against him._

Which brought him to Friday next week. Somehow Alexander managed to sneak his prop in without the other man noticing. He had gone over the budget for the Halloween mask, but he couldn't help it: this one was perfect. It was absolutely hideous. Jefferson would be _horrified_. He'd even practiced his best jumpscare scream with John (to the concern of the other park-goers that time).

**To: jeffershit**

i'll be coming home late tonight

**From: jeffershit**

And you're telling me this... why?

**To: jeffershit**

just thought i'd tell you

**To: jeffershit**

because we're roommates

**To: jeffershit**

unless you can tell me honestly you wouldn't bitch if i accidentally woke you up when i get home

**From: jeffershit**

Read.

**To: jeffershit**

what the fuck you can't just text read when you don't want to reply

It was a good plan. First, lure Jefferson into thinking he won't be at their dorm until late tonight. In truth, come home earlier than he does. Hide in his closet with the Halloween mask and wait. When he gets home and goes to change clothes, jump out of the closet and scare the living shit out of him. Lastly, laugh as the other man runs out the room crying for his mommy. (Or Laf. Same difference.)

He shoved aside Jefferson's ugly magenta sweaters and button-ups by their hangers, settling himself between the drawers and the shoe rack after he had made space for himself. He propped the mask up on his knees before checking his messages for any word from his roommate.

Nothing.

But whatever. If Jefferson were to follow his usual routine he'd be home in ten minutes give or take anyway. With the smell of expensive laundry detergent smothering him, Alexander prayed he'd follow routine.

**To: john laurens, in the place to be**

i'm in the closet

**From: john laurens, in the place to be**

again??

**To: john laurens, in the place to be**

oh haha

**From: john laurens, in the place to be**

lmao.. good luck tho!!

The main door creaked open, shut and clicked locked. Alexander quickly shut off his phone so as to not give himself away with its light. He shoved the mask on. With the closet facing Jefferson's bed, he couldn't quite see how the man was approaching, so he knew he had to be prepared. He peeked through the closet's doors.

After some shuffling, Jefferson finally came into view. Alexander watched as he carefully deposited his laptop bag on his bedside table before pulling a sleek black box from the table's drawer and setting it on his bed.

If anyone were to ask him, Alexander Hamilton would claim that he's very rarely wrong. You could almost say that he's never wrong. But, watching his roommate/archrival strip himself of pants and settle into his bed, he wished he was wrong about one thing:

_Good Lord, the fucker is going to masturbate._

It was then he realized he wouldn't be able to come out of his hiding place for a while. He could do nothing but watch in horror as Thomas Jefferson watched porn on his phone, stretched languidly over the bed, fingers occasionally drifting under his sweatshirt, over his own body. He tried, desperately tried, not to look at his roommate's growing bulge. Tried to pry his eyes from the sight of the other man's expression going lax and heavy with want. Operative word being _tried_.

When Jefferson slipped his fingers under the band of his boxer-briefs to push them lower on his hips, his cock bobbed free; thick, flushed and proud. Alexander's mouth went so dry he thought he would cough and spit out sand. Then Jefferson dragged his shirt up, not taking it off completely, just tucking most of the fabric under his armpits to expose a sinfully toned abdomen and nipples perky from the cool air in the room. One hand still holding up his phone, he lightly trailed his hand over the lines of his abs, then further down his body over coarse pubic hair, and then finally around his length.

His roommate shuddered at the contact, eyes fluttering close. Despite the naturally cold air, Alexander somehow felt ten degrees hotter. It was hypnotic, how Jefferson teased himself, only loosely fucking his ring of fingers. He dug his thumb into the slit of his cock to catch precum, then dragged the lubrication down to help smooth the slide against the skin of his palm. Alex found himself able to pinpoint exactly when something good happened on screen, because Jefferson would grip himself tighter around the base in an effort to control his arousal.

This went on for a few minutes before he stopped. And sat up.

 _He hasn't gotten off yet._ Alexander's heart dropped to his gut. _Was I caught? Did I make noise? Did he hear me? Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit..._

But Jefferson just reached over to pull the black box closer. Calming down, Alexander took his mask off to better see what the other was doing. He watched as Jefferson fiddled with the lock and opened it, before reaching in...

...and pulling out...

...a dildo.

A very thick, _very purple_ dildo.

This time, Alexander reached down to grip himself—who was he kidding? He was already hard as shit from peeping on his academic rival, he might as well touch himself while he was at it—through his jeans because. Because _this is not okay. I am not okay with this._

Never in his entire life had he ever even thought to put the words _Thomas Jefferson_ and _anal masturbation_ in the same sentence. Hell, not even in the same paragraph. Or the same page, or the same book, or the—

"Hahhh..."

His head snapped up at the sound of a quiet moan. At some point, while Alexander was short circuiting, Jefferson had reached down and started fingering himself, laid on his back, head hanging a bit off the edge of the bed, with one foot lightly propped against the wall. There was a faint slick sound that came with the sight, which led Alex to look around the bed and spot a pink polka-dotted bottle tucked in the wrinkled sheets. _Lube,_ he thought. _Of course he has lube._

A part of him thrashed and whined at the realization that he didn't get to see how Jefferson built up to _that_. He told that part of himself to shut the fuck up.

"Uh... fu—ck," Jefferson gasped, back arching off the bed, head tossed to the side, neck exposed. His jaw was slack, eyes a bit dazed. Alexander noted that he wasn't moving his fingers much, not really prepping himself anymore, just firmly rubbing against a spot inside him. "Fuckfuckfuhh—ck..."

He pulled his fingers out, rolling on his side to grab the _very thick, very purple_ dildo and the bottle of lube. He squirted a generous amount of lube onto the toy, sloppily slicking it up by stroking up and down.

(Alexander wondered how those long graceful fingers would feel wrapped around his— _no, stop it. I'm not thinking that._ He took his hand off his crotch to prove his point. Though to whom he doesn't really know.)

And, just when Alexander thought things couldn't get worse, Jefferson rolled onto his stomach, propping himself up on his knees. He had one pillow under his chest, one arm curled around it; not really for leverage, just something to grab on to. His other arm was pinned underneath him, hand holding the _very thick, very purple_ dildo against his ass.

_Oh no this is a much better view—stop, it's not. Nothing about this is okay._

"Ohhh... fuck me," Jefferson moaned, finally sinking the toy into himself. His thighs trembled with the effort of keeping himself up, but he didn't stop to let himself adjust. One second to breathe, and then the next he was picking up a pace, fucking himself with the _very thick, very_ —

Alexander will never look at that exact shade of purple the same way ever again. _I shouldn't have hid in this stupid closet,_ he thought to himself. _I should've just saved the money I used on that stupid Halloween mask. I should've just gone home normally and written a draft for my Econ paper today._

On the bed, Jefferson was none the wiser to his internal self-berating. His cock was leaking a steady stream onto the red sheets. Quiet moans and slick slides were all that could be heard in the room. He shifted again, this time pushing himself up to a kneeling-sitting position, long legs tucked under him, dildo still inside. He moved a bit more to pin the toy's scrotum-shaped base under his feet.

Alexander knew he was done for when the man started to bounce on it.

He was lost in the sight. He knew he could never turn back from this. After this, every single time he would look up from his bed and catch a glimpse of Jefferson's bedsheets all he would think about is how well the red fabric complements the man's bare skin. Every single time Jefferson would wear that sweatshirt he would be reminded of dark nipples, a lightly haired chest, and toned abs. And every time he sees _very purple, that exact shade of purple—_

"Yes, please, yes... fuck, ah."

—he would think about how well Thomas took seven inches. How Thomas' hole stretched around _very thick, very purple,_ and how it seemed to grip the toy every time it pulled out like he wasn't quite willing to let it go.

He would think about how Thomas does these little kicks whenever he hit a particularly good spot. About how he would jerk with the little jolts of pleasure, body pulling away but coming back down again like he's not sure whether to run from the sensation or towards it. Alexander would think about how, maybe, if he were to grip Thomas by the hips, force him to meet the thrusts, he could overwhelm the man enough to make him scream. How, maybe, if he were to pin Thomas down and _force him to take_ —

_—oh fuck I am never taking a break ever again. That movie night was a mistake._

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh—"

—he could send the man over the edge faster—

"—hahh—"

—and he could—

"Fuck, Ja—mes," Jefferson moaned, body shuddering helplessly around the toy as he rode it through his climax. He had one hand buried in his hair, tangled in the curls, the other hand hovering over his bed ready to catch his weight should he lose strength. His cock spurted — rather strategically, might Alexander add — onto his discarded underwear placed under him rather than onto the sheets.

Alexander watched as he slumped forward— _toy still inside, Jesus Christ, what a sight_ —boneless from exhaustion, but looking soft and sated. His eyes slipped closed, probably already sleepy as guys get after an orgasm, and his brows scrunched up when he slowly pulled the dildo out without looking, lips parting on a sigh. (Alexander decided that moment that he kind of likes the look of post-orgasm Jefferson.)

For a brief moment, Alexander feared for his life when Jefferson got off the bed, standing on shaky legs to grab the toy, the box and his underwear before walking over to the front of his closet.

He didn't open it, however, and Alex breathed a sigh of relief as quietly as he could. He leaned back a bit more to hide better as he noted how Jefferson was just reaching over to grab his towel. Then Jefferson walked away, disappearing from view.

A door clicked open and shut, this time a bit lighter-sounding than the main door. _The bathroom,_ Alexander thought. His suspicion was confirmed when he heard the tell-tale sound of the shower starting.

He waited for half a minute before quietly slipping out of the closet, using both hands to slide the doors shut as well as he could without them creaking. After that he made an audial show of slamming the main door open and then shut, pulling his keys out of his pocket to jingle them.

"Jeffersooonnn," he called out. "Honey, I'm home!"

Jefferson exasperatedly groaned from inside the bathroom.

(The sound did not make Alexander's dick twitch, at all. He will stand by that claim until he dies.)

He stomped over, tossing himself onto his bed, (covering his lower half with his blankets,) making as much noise as possible to make it sound _like he just got here._

It took a good hour for Jefferson to get out of the shower. He reentered the room with a towel wrapped around his waist, skin a bit flushed (from the intense masturbation or the heat of the shower, Alexander wasn't sure). He was also gripping the black box tight enough for his knuckles to go white.

"I thought you were coming home late," he accused.

Shit.

"Being the third wheel to Herc and Laf is only entertaining for so long, I realized," Alex lied. Jefferson's face remained suspicious. "Besides, I missed you," he teased, fully intending for it to be sarcastic, only for the tone to fall flatter than he would have liked. Before he could physically beat himself up, Jefferson rolled his eyes.

"Whatever," Jefferson said, walking over to his bedside table.

 _Act natural._ "What's that?" Alexander asked, gesturing to the box (of which the contents he knew very well).

Jefferson placed the box in the drawer, shutting it with finality. "...none of your business." An in-character response. _Nailed it._

"Okay," he shrugged. "Didn't really care anyway."

"Good. 'Cause I'm goin' to sleep."

Alexander watched Jefferson—he'd been doing that a lot today, he realized—as he rifled through his closet and took out his choice of clothes. Alexander looked away when the other man started slipping on a new pair of underwear, tugging it up under the towel for some semblance of decency (as if Alexander hadn't already seen his everything). After pulling on some sweatpants and a t-shirt, he carefully re-hung his towel and then rolled into bed, pulling the red blankets over his body.

_Redsheetsbrownskinbackarchedthighsshakingverythickverypurpledil—_

"Good night."

Jefferson was out like a light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is my first fanfiction. Like, ever.
> 
> My writing mood is a bit sporadic, so I'm not too sure about an update schedule. I do, however, have chapters 2 through 6 of this already planned and plotted. One thing's for sure, this fic will exceed 10 chapters.
> 
> Oh! I also happen to not have a beta, so if you spot any glaring mistakes, please do tell.


	2. Chapter 2

He couldn't remember how they ended up in that position, but Alexander wasn't complaining. He was laid on Thomas' bed, the man in question stretched over his body, pressing Alexander further into the sheets with his weight.

"Alex," Thomas gasped, hips slotting against Alexander's before grinding down. "Please."

Oh.

Alexander reached around him, arms heavy and lead-like, maneuvering his hands enough to cup Thomas' ass through his boxer-briefs. He pressed down with his hands and ground his hips up to help the other man rut against him, whining at the friction. The spark of pleasure from Thomas' hard length against his was glorious, almost mind-numbingly delicious — yet he somehow couldn't feel it enough. And _goddammit_ he needed more.

Meanwhile the taller man was frantically touching him everywhere, large palms trying to meet skin wherever they found them, nails dragging red lines into his sides. He kissed and nipped and licked sloppily at Alexander's neck and chest, up and down and back up again, teeth and tongue leaving wet trails and goosebumps in their wake.

Faintly, Alexander wondered how he hadn't been crushed to death under Thomas' weight yet.

Having decided to channel his energy into more productive activities, Alexander traced his thumbs around the band of Thomas' underwear, hooking them at the sides and tugging them down the curve of the his ass. He squeezed at the fleshy globes first, swatting them harshly and earning a wrecked moan, before spreading one cheek to the side, the other hand pressing a finger to Thomas' hole. He gasped in shock when he found it wet and prepped.

Alexander, in a surge of arousal, gripped Thomas by the waist and flipped them both over smoothly. He hurriedly tore the other's underwear off, chucking it to the side, and settled himself between the taller man's thighs, long legs easily falling open to give him space.

"Is this for me?" he asked breathlessly, finger drifting down once more to trace the slick hole.

"All yours," Thomas panted, lips brushing Alexander's as he spoke. Alex's heart stuttered at the sight of his eyes lidded with arousal. "Fuck me?"

Alexander didn't need to be asked twice. He leaned down to kiss the other man, tongue slipping in to taste, as he pulled Thomas closer by the knees, Thomas' cock sliding against the softness of his stomach. Then he sat up to free his own from its confines, to finally _finally_ bury himself in his roommate's tight heat—

When he did pull his length out, he froze.

His dick was _fucking purple_.

At 2:51 AM, Alexander Hamilton woke up screaming.

Jefferson startled awake at the sound, body shooting up from under his blankets, one hand reaching out to slam his desk light on. The leftover grogginess on his face faded immediately when he met eyes with the smaller man. Sympathy painted his features.

"Nightmare?" he asked softly, as if he was afraid of startling Alexander further. It was sweet, if Alexander had to admit. His nightmares were some of the (very few) things Jefferson never stooped low enough to tease him about. In a way, he must've understood just how bad Alexander's past was, even though he never actually heard it from the man personally.

"Sure," Alexander deadpanned. The gesture that should've filled him with warmth instead sparked into guilt. There Jefferson was, checking in on Alexander after a supposed "nightmare" right after Alexander's subconscious had decided to horribly sexualize him.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

_Oh, hell no._

"Jefferson, you're _the last_ person I'd want to talk to about this," he snapped.

He didn't think his words through, only realizing his mistake when Jefferson's concerned expression twisted into a snarl. "Well, fuck me for tryna be nice," his roommate hissed. He moved sharply, switching his light off with an abruptness that shrouded their room in darkness fast enough for Alexander's eyes to flash with stars. Alexander heard more than saw Jefferson laying back down his bed, shifting the blankets back over his form.

He definitely hadn't meant that the way Jefferson must've taken it. Alexander meant _the last person_ with his wet dream in context. Because what sane man would've replied with: "Sure! Let's talk about how I just had a sexually charged dream of you—yes, you!—where I was about to horizontal tango you into your own mattress, only to find out that my dick had been replaced by your purple dildo. Which I saw you use, by the way. How funny is that?" Though, in hindsight, there was no way Jefferson would've guessed that he hadn't meant it maliciously considering the contextual requirement.

From how Jefferson must have seen it, he had simply tried to extend an olive branch, a moment of truce to help his nemesis out at the other's moment of distress, only for that olive branch to, not politely be declined, but rudely slapped away. And stomped on. And now Alexander's fuck-up might have just cost him any hope for more moments of kindness from the taller man in the future.

He barely restrained himself from smacking his forehead at that realization.

By 5:36 AM, Alexander Hamilton still hadn't fallen back asleep.

He had promised himself the day after The Closet Incident that he would put what he witnessed behind. He swore to dedicate his full effort into unknowing what he knew, throwing himself into working on his papers and requirements — even more so than usual — in an attempt to distract his mind from thinking about what he just saw.

And now, barely four days later, that suppression boiled over and blew up in his face in the form of a really disturbing wet dream.

**To: john laurens, in the place to be**

yo john

**To: john laurens, in the place to be**

woke up too early

**From: john laurens, in the place to be**

i'm up :))

**From: john laurens, in the place to be**

meet you at the library at 7??

**From: john laurens, in the place to be**

i'll bring you coffee

**To: john laurens, in the place to be**

you know me so well <3

"Whoah, dude," John gasped as he settled into the chair beside Alexander, tearing his attention from his laptop. "What happened to you?" The freckled man examined him with an interesting mix of horror and awe.

"What do you mean what happened to me?"

"You somehow look even worse than yesterday. Which is saying a lot since yesterday you already looked worse than usual." He placed two lidded papers cups of coffee in front of Alexander. Both for him. "Have you slept at all last night? Did you stay up working on your papers again?"

"I did get some sleep actually," Alex groaned, rubbing at his face. "It was just... cut short."

John whistled lowly, expression scrunching up in worry. "Nightmare?"

"...sure."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"..."

"And just when we thought you've reached your tiredest, you manage to surprise us the next day with a whole new level of tired." Hercules' rough voice came from seemingly nowhere, before the man himself appeared in his line of vision, pulling a sleepy Lafayette along by the pinky. The two occupied the remaining chairs in front of him and John.

"C'est à moi," Laf announced, grabbing one of Alex's coffees for himself. "Never 'ave marathon sex on a weekday."

"Ew, TMI."

"I am offering free advice. Do not disrespect me."

"Sorry, mom."

"Et toi," Laf continued, pointing an accusatory finger at Alex. "You spent all night on your requirements again, did you not? Je le vois dans tes yeux, mon petit lion. Or under them, rather." He then directed said finger at the shorter man's eyebags.

Alexander rolled his eyes at the Frenchman's dramatics. "Why is everyone assuming I worked all night? Maybe I also got laid."

Lafayette scoffed at that. "In your dreams, Alexander," he said, sipping on the stolen coffee.

He missed how Alexander visibly gulped at his retort. Alex's dream vividly passed through his mind at 1.75 speed at Laf's accidental reminder.

_"Alex—"_

_"Please—"_

_"All yours—"_

_"Fuck me?"_

If Peggy's superhuman ability was being incapable of fear, Laf's was probably clairvoyance.

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, with John doodling all over his lecture notes, Alex on the 7th page of his 2nd draft, and Laf and Herc... doing something the other two pointedly chose not to look at.

By another half hour mark, Alex found his vision swimming with exhaustion. Fuck, he still had Franklin at 10 AM. He powered off his laptop after clicking Ctrl + S on his document more than necessary. He pushed the laptop away after that, crossing his arms on the table and leaning his head into them.

"Ugh, wake me up at 10:15," he groaned.

"You have Franklin at 10," John reminded him.

"I can afford to be late."

Laf tapped his shoulder. "Mon lion." Alex looked up to find him surveying Alexander's appearance, brows furrowed with concern. "Maybe you should sit outside of this one—"

"— _sit this one out_ , babe—"

"—because we were not kidding when we said you look terrible."

"Laf's right, kid," Herc agreed. "Knowing you, you're likely ahead of the requirements for that class anyway. Take a break."

Alexander was far too drowsy to argue. He looked back on the past week, on how he'd only ever caught three or four hours of sleep each night. And then that morning's mess happened, depriving him of even more sleep. His exhaustion doubled as he realized just how little rest he's had recently.

"Yeah," he decided. "Yeah, I'll do that." Alexander gathered his things, eyes already drooping at the thought of getting some shut-eye. He barely nodded a goodbye at the three, already stumbling over to the library's exit soon as he finished packing up.

"Mon ami!" Alex turned back at Laf, who had followed him to the doorway. "On Friday let us 'ave a movie night again, oui?"

 _Did he even want to have another one of those?_ "I'll think about it, Laf."

It was enough an answer for Laf, it seemed, as he smiled brightly at Alexander before making his way back into the library.

Alexander made his way to the dormitories.

When he got to his (and Jefferson's) room, he stopped in his tracks at a sound. He could hear Jefferson's voice faintly through the door, talking to someone, which could only mean one thing. Alexander scowled at that thought. He turned the knob, finding it unlocked, and pushed his way in, his dread confirmed at seeing Jefferson _and Madison_ chatting on Jefferson's bed.

His roommate had his head on the other southerner's lap, the stockier man brushing his curls back as he listened to Jefferson complain about the dorm rooms not having individual thermostats. Madison was agreeing absentmindedly, not looking at all like he was actually listening, but too used to his best friend complaining that he knew his input for this one wasn't actually needed.

Alexander coughed to get their attention. _Christ, he just wanted to sleep._

Madison's hand stilled its motions in his friend's hair. "Hamilton," he nodded, finally acknowledging Alexander. Alexander refused to believe Madison hadn't already heard or seen him come in earlier.

Jefferson, however, sat up abruptly, actually looking like he hadn't noticed the new presence in the room. He turned to look at Alexander before looking away again. _Probably still sour from earlier,_ Alexander thought bitterly.

"Are you going to stay for long?" he asked Madison, tone harsh. He knew he was being needlessly rude, but the tiredness was hammering his skull in the form of a headache. "'Cause I was actually planning to get some sleep."

Surprisingly, Jefferson didn't protest. The taller southerner just looked at his friend in question, said friend looking to have come to a decision. "It's alright," Madison said, already standing up as he checked the time. "I was planning to meet Dolley for lunch anyway. Guess we can meet earlier."

"Jemmy's gon' get some," Jefferson joked, lightly pushing Madison away.

"It's broad daylight, Thomas. We're just having Thai."

"I refuse to believe _Thai_ isn't code for anythin' sexual."

Madison just rolled his eyes at the other's antics, grabbing his backpack off the floor. "I'll see you later," he promised, patting his friend on the head. "Hamilton." He nodded at Alexander again, finally making his way out the room.

Alexander sighed in relief at the sound of the door clicking shut, but was cut off short as he noticed his roommate's expression. Jefferson's smile had already dropped, and he looked pained, gazing almost longingly at the door Madison left through. Not too unlike an abandoned puppy.

Inexplicably, Alexander's heart wrenched at the sight. He chose to ignore it, dropping his things at the edge of his bed and kicking off his shoes before finally lying down.

_Peace, at last._

He was surprised when Jefferson broke the silence.

"Look, Hamilton," the other man started, eyes still on the door, "I shouldn't've reacted like... I had this mornin'."

"Huh?"

"With the nightmare thing. You didn't have to talk to me about it. You don't owe anyone that." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, finally looking at Alexander. It was the most sincere Alex had seen him. "So, yeah, I'm sorry for gettin' mad like that."

The apology left Alexander stunned.

"I... actually appreciated it," he told the other. It was the truth anyway. "I might have reacted worse than you have. You weren't wrong for checking in. It was surprisingly thoughtful of you. I was just... tense," he admitted. "You know, from the nightmare," he lied.

This was not their dynamic. He hadn't expected Jefferson to apologize, and he hadn't expected to apologize back. It was an almost tender moment, and Alexander held his breath in fear that the smallest movement would shatter it.

Alexander certainly hadn't expected his breath be blown away by the grin Thomas sent him in response. "Surprisingly thoughtful of me?" Jefferson asked teasingly. "I'm always thoughtful, you little shit."

Somehow seeing his roommate back in a teasing mood relieved him more than the prospect of finally having the chance to sleep. While his body physically yawned, the sudden warmth that filled him made him feel more awake than ever. "Sure you are," he agreed sarcastically.

Jefferson must have seen him stifle that yawn, though, because he rolled his eyes and stood up, grabbing his messenger bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, I get it, you need to sleep. I'll leave you alone."

Alexander just grunted, waving him away before turning in his bed to face the wall.

"Rest well, Hamilton," he heard before sleep claimed him.

**To: favorite fighting frenchman**

so about that movie night

**To: favorite fighting frenchman**

i'm in

They gathered at Laf's apartment again that Friday.

It was the same crowd of people: Alexander, John, Lafayette and Hercules, and the three Schuylers. Peggy brought over more of her films—more zombie films—because apparently "movie night" translated to "zombie movie night" to her.

She brought funny ones this time though, _Shaun of the Dead_ and _Zombieland_ being among the options.

The doorbell rang.

Alexander looked around. Everyone invited had already arrived. _Unless, of course..._

"I'll get it," he announced, jumping off the couch towards the door. _Stupid Frenchman inviting pompous, arrogant southerners to movie nights_ , he ranted off in his head, ignoring the voice in his head that told him that he had actually agreed to the movie night expecting Jefferson to be there as well.

Except, when he opened the front door, it wasn't Jefferson standing there.

"Laf," Alexander yelled, gesturing at a very confused Aaron Burr, "this is worse!"

The Frenchman peered through the hallway before sniffing haughtily at the sight of Burr. "I was not the one who invited him, Alexander, and I am offended that you would even consider that."

"I invited him," John piped up, joining them in the hallway to greet what was _his guest_ , apparently. "Trust me, rooming with Charles Lee and having to see him all the time—," he shuddered, "can't be good for anyone."

Alexander doubted Burr even cared.

Most of them settled into last week's seating arrangements, though this time John sat on the floor with Peggy, and Burr was seated next to Alexander. With no John on the couch there was more space, which Alexander used to scoot as far away from Burr as possible.

It was _terrible_.

Burr somehow made watching a romantic comedy _with zombies_ look boring. He would only react to the funny scenes with a quirk of his lips, not laughing at all compared to everyone else's wild cackling. For the emotional scenes, an acknowledging hum. For the tense scenes, a small furrow of his brows. It was natural talent.

Alexander wasn't surprised when, when asked, Burr's favorite part was "the whole movie was great."

While on a short break after the first film — some needing a bathroom break from all the beer, some needing to grab more beer — Alexander tapped the Frenchman on the shoulder. "No Jefferson this time?" he asked, trying to sound as neutral as possible.

Laf shared a look with Hercules, their silent conversation unreadable to Alexander. "Did you want Thoma' 'ere?"

"Ew, no!" Alexander denied, posture immediately defensive. "I was just wondering why you didn't invite him again."

"Hmmm. 'e does not do good with horror movies, 'e said. I tried to tell 'im that we would not be watching anything scary this time, but 'e would not budge," Laf shrugged.

Alexander chose to sit on the floor with John and Peggy for the next film. He found himself spending _Zombieland_ imagining what it would have been like if he had Jefferson's full-bodied laughter at his side instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Extra Chapter (Thomas POV):** [Take Your Time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29352930)


End file.
